For the Swarm
by CheezDip
Summary: In the darkest depths of a Zerg hive, a lone Terran Marine—captive and subjected to the horrors of infestation—battles the Hive Mind for possession of his sanity.


For the Swarm

Rays of golden light creeped over nameless snow-capped peaks in the distant east, ushering the warmth of dawn into the rolling meadows below. Mason Hays looked out over those meadows—soft purples, yellows and whites scattered across rich green grass painted an eye-pleasing landscape—and the redolent scents of new spring swirled into his nostrils along a fine breeze. Milkweed and clover he recognized, but he knew the flora was unique to this world, biologically distinct from those he grew up with. It was not the meadows that interested him, however. Somewhere beyond the towering mountain range were his wife and daughter.

A hand tapped his shoulder, metal to metal, and he turned. Nodding to the Marine—fully armored as Mason was himself, with a standard-issue gauss rifle held firmly—he left his post and walked down a series of steel ramps connecting upper wall to soil.

It was a short walk to the barracks down a dirt path where weeks of foot traffic had worn away the vegetation. Green patches still lay scattered around the small civilian outpost, but he knew it was just a matter of time before they, too, disappeared. For Terrans it was the way of life. Concrete and steel encroached upon the territories of nature until there was nothing left of it. A sad reality, but it was not his place to complain.

This was Erdom, a small, pristine world on the fringe of colonial space. A world unexplored, unmolested by the innovations of man—until now. Teams of scientists from the Hanar Corporation erected two sister outposts nearly a month ago to analyze and document climate patterns, wildlife and vegetation, water purity and more, in preparation for future large-scale colonization. Dominion authorities insisted on a Marine escort to protect its interests.

Callum Durgen—an ex-con, neurally resocialized and perhaps his only friend on the base—nodded to him from behind a questionable magazine as he stepped through the reinforced door. The barracks was as austere structure housing simple cots and showers, privies and the like—the bare necessities of a solder's life—but Mason had only one need in mind. Ignoring all else, he approached a communications terminal bolted to the wall and pressed a sequence of buttons. Every few days he was alotted a comm ration at the end of his patrol.

Steely blue eyes and a smooth, light-skinned face looked back at him through the digital display, lips parting into the most beautiful smile he had ever known. "Mason," she said instantly. "You won't believe the discovery we've made." His wife Cara was Lead Biologist at the second outpost. "The bio signature... it's massive! It's unlike anything else we've seen on this world. We'll know more when we get a team out there." Ending abruptly, she stooped down to lift a little girl onto her lap, and the news was quick to slip from Mason's mind.

"Hi Daddy!" his daughter Kelly said, eyes like bright orbs and tiny hands tugging on pigtails at her shoulders.

"Hey, sweetheart."

Callum stirred. "If yer goin'ta be gettin' all soft an' mushy," he spoke with a slurred, drawling accent, "I'll leave ya to it." He slipped out the door, no doubt heading to the makeshift distillery behind the storage block. A good man, no matter his past.

"Daddy, when are you coming to see us?" the girl asked. She looked up at her mother as if Cara might have the answer.

"Soon, baby," he told her. With a nod from her mother, the girl scampered off. "Cara, the transfer request went through. In nine days I'll be out of here." When Cara first told him she was flying off to a faraway world with a team of researchers, he got himself attached to the mission's escort. Only they put him on the wrong outpost, hundreds of miles from his family. In just nine days they would be reunited. He could hardly wait to run his hands through her short-cut, flaming-red hair and draw her lips ever closer to his own...

Sounds of gunfire and an earth-shaking blast severed his thoughts. Leaving the terminal switched on, he ran toward the door and away from the voice calling out his name in worried tones. Lifting his rifle and shutting his visor, Mason marched out of the barracks and straight into a scene of chaos.

Bodies of zerglings piled up where a gate wall was now a jagged opening with traces of steaming green sludge, and still more climbed over their fallen kin as they swarmed into the base. An arc of Marines held back the invaders, but there appeared to be more than one way into the base. Mason sidestepped a group of fleeing civilians and shot dead the 'ling at their heels with a derisory grunt.

The outpost was civilian-operated; an amalgam of laboratories and cold storage depots for housing specimens filled most of the space within the walls. Only the barracks and adjacent armory suggested a military presence. There were no turrets or other static defenses along the deficient wall and just a single platoon of Marines was on duty at any time. It was not built to withstand an attack, only to create an illusion of safety for the scientists working within. _They said this planet was uninhabited._

A shrill mutalisk cry turned his attention to the sky as it whooshed overhead and dove toward a lone Marine atop the wall walk. Choosing the lesser of two bad options, the Marine leaped out of its way and rolled when he hit the ground inside the wall, maintaining a grip on his rifle. He managed a few shots before the 'lings overwhelmed him, ripping the man apart in a bloody frenzy. Aiming high, the arc of defenders tattered the mutalisk's wings with a hail of bullets that sent it tumbling through the air and into the side of a building.

Mason Hays, always one to jump into the thick of the action, moved to join the line when he heard his name. "Hays! Over here!" Callum called from the corner of a depot opposite the busted gate. With an arm gesture he rounded the corner. Mason followed quickly but cautiously, dodging terrified civilians while checking behind every crate for a Zerg ambush.

Beyond the depot, Mason found Callum on one knee peering into a hole wide enough to fit a truck and deep enough to get under the wall's foundations. There was no way of knowing how far out the tunnel ran.

"Thinkin' it's how some a'them bugs got in," Callum drawled. As if summoned by the words, a roach stuck its head out of the hole and the two men didn't stop shooting until well after its twitching ceased. Nasty critters, those roaches. Acid spitters with hides as thick as a tank, but they were best known for rapidly mending their own injuries. Maybe even grow back limbs and organs, so they said in the propaganda reels, and it didn't sound too farfetched. "Zerg ain't gettin' past us, not without an ass full of holes."

Mason nodded. "We'll give 'em one hell of a..." Sudden dizziness caused him to stagger. "We'll give..." Taking a deep breath, he tried to concentrate. "We'll..."

"You feelin' alright, Hays?" He was not. For some reason his neck was sore and blood boiled in his veins. "Hays?" The world was closing in on him, trapping, suffocating. A wave of paranoia overcame him. Turning in a circle, he searched for some unseen threat. "Goddamn slugs!" Callum cried out with alarm. "Git yer ass turned back 'round, Hays." Mason could not make sense of the words coming from Callum's mouth, but the man sounded angry. "Hays! I said turn 'round!"

Callum raised his rifle and Mason stepped back with a gasp, leveling his own to match. "No! Stay away!" _Why? Why is he trying to hurt me? _Sweat dripped down his face and his heart raced. Callum said something unintelligible and stepped forward. Mason panicked; his finger squeezed tight on the trigger and the gun discharged.

His friend fell to the ground and he didn't care. He knew that he should, but he didn't. _Why don't I care?_ Incredible sensations began to flow through him, a deluge of rightness. He killed a man, a friend, and yet it felt right. Moreover, it was exhilarating. The rush of killing Zerg was nothing in comparison. His lips curled into a predatory grin. _More. I want more!_

Only there was noone left to kill. Creatures sporting red-stained jowls sauntered listlessly out of buildings and gathered in the open grass, seemingly disinterested in him. Mason only now noticed that gunfire was replaced by the roars and cries of the victors. Terran bodies littered the ground like discarded trash—the agonized moans of unfortunate survivors were lost in the celebration—but not one was live enough to give him the fix he needed.

Disappointed, Mason stepped down into the tunnel and began walking, unsure of where he was going or why. Nor was he aware of the giant slug latched onto his back, or the appendages pumping neurotoxins into his nervous system. The darkness of the tunnel consumed him.

* * *

"You served us well this day," a deep, breathy voice thundered. "A taste of many more days to come." The words reverberated in the darkness.

_ Where am I? How long was I...?_ Mason's head ached. Echos of gunfire still rang in his ears and he remembered zerglings in the base, but everything after that was a blur. Immediately the thought of his wife and daughter struck him. Were they safe? Was their outpost hit too? Were they next? He had to warn them.

Groggily he forced his eyelids to peel open. Wherever he had awakened, one look told him he did not intend to stay long. Clusters of firefly-like bugs clung to brown-and-purple-veined walls, their bulbous abdomens giving off a dim glow that his eyes readily adjusted to. In unison they fluttered their wings with a _click click click_, briefly concealing their light but cleansing themselves of an ooze dripping viscously down the walls.

The chamber was small like a prison cell but he could see no guards before the pitch-black entryway, though unexpectedly his armor and rifle sat off to the side. Mason lay bare-chested atop a soft mound with a feeling of organic warmth to it. In fact, the whole room seemed to pulse with life. _Aw hell, a Zerg hive! _Instinct demanded that he scramble to his feet—if he could just reach his weapon, he could shoot his way out—but his body did not agree. He frowned when he realized he hadn't moved an inch. It was only when he failed again and again that worry began to set in. Growling from the strain, he tried to will his paralyzed muscles into motion but would have had as much success lifting a mountain.

"Waste not your strength on futile struggle." The voice emanated from somewhere beyond the corridor; a breath of warm, fetid air wafted in behind it. Whatever was out there, it sounded monstrously large, judging by how the hive walls trembled with each word.

"Who are you?" Mason called out to the darkness. Apparently the toxins paralyzing his limbs did not affect his speech. "_What_ are you?" He had a few guesses. It was well known the Zerg do not speak the way men do, but they were not without unpleasant exceptions. Brain bugs, infesteds, even the Queen of Blades herself. This masculine voice was clearly not hers, though.

The voice hissed, "Soon you will know me only as Master. You cannot yet begin to imagine the honor to be bestowed upon you. My brood welcomes you as kin, and you will serve the swarm as few of your kind ever have." _So he's a cerebrate, then. A brain bug._ Cerebrates were the commanders of Zerg broods, second only to the Queen of Blades in the Zerg heirarchy. Unlike their mindless minions, these giant blobs of brain matter had an intelligence and will of their own, and used psionic powers to lead their broods vicariously. The Hive Mind, one shared mind. No disagreement or discord, only selfless obedience to the cerebrate.

"I will not be your slave!" he shouted. "You hear me? I will not be made a slave! I swear it on my life you'll get nothing out of me, so don't even waste your breath asking." It would not be that simple, of course, but he was trained to resist.

A rumble resembling laughter shook the hive. "Soon I shall have everything I desire from you. And I will not need to ask." It might be true, for what little he knew of Zerg infestation, but he had to believe he could fight it, or he would die. Or worse. If he could only outlast the paralysis and grab his gun, he might have a chance. "Do not make this difficult on yourself, Human," the cerebrate said soothingly. "You have already taken your first step. Take comfort in what you have done this day, and know that it is only the beginning."

_In what _I've_ done? Goddamn bug is crazy._ Yet his memories of the last day were still foggy. The outpost was attacked, that he was sure of. There was gunfire, zerglings. Civilians ran around like fools drawing attention to themselves. Callum waved him over and they... Callum. _Oh God, Callum! What have I done?_

Fragments of memory bubbled up from the depths of his mind. Callum was yelling at him, threatening him. Callum wanted to kill him. _No, that couldn't be right._ The image blinked out of existence and was replaced by another. The muzzle of his rifle lit up. Bullets punched holes through the chest of Callum's suit. _No, this didn't happen._ Now he was standing over his friend, watching the blood pool beneath a lifeless body. He was looking through his own eyes, but it had to be some kind of trick. _Have they already got inside my head?_ His fists would have been clenched tight were it possible, but he settled for grinding his teeth.

"It's all a lie. I don't believe any of it," he muttered through clamped jaws. Loyalty was ingrained in Mason; he would have chosen his own death before betraying a friend. _But the memories were so real..._ "You tell me right now what _really_ happened, you maggot!" he demanded.

"You deny what you know to be true. In time you will understand the portentousness of your service. I can sense within you a burning desire, Human. A desire for meaning, for purpose; to be a part of something much greater than yourself. We are that which you have blindly sought your entire life. We are the evolution of perfection. Though you did not know it, fate has guided you to us." _Lies. All lies._

The cerebrate continued. "This day has secured the path to your destiny. My underlings were the catalysts to your actions, but do not think yourself absolved. It was the strength of your own primal urges that they seized and unleashed. Were it not for us, you may have died before ever knowing your full potential."

_ Mind games,_ he thought. _They're trying to get inside my head, trick me into accepting the fate they've laid out. _"I'm no fool," he barked gruffly. "My thoughts are my own. If you could control me, I wouldn't be stuck here like this."

"A temporary arrangement," the voice said dismissively. "The infestor strain does not draw sustenance from its host; rather the opposite. Selflessly it donates of its own energies to strengthen and embolden your mind, but for only a short time before it is conquered by fatigue. That is why you were brought to me. It is here that you will begin your true metamorphosis."

Mason grew silent as a chill ran down his spine, trying to reason a way out of this mess. His weapon still lay by the doorway, taunting him just out of reach. _I'm so sorry, Callum. I should have been strong enough to resist. I should have—_ The fireflies on the wall fluttered their wings furiously. _Click click click click!_

"Ah! It is time," said the cerebrate. From the same darkness came a sound like torn leather then a splash, followed by a grainy shuffle. Something was headed his way.

_ Damnit, no. I need more time to plan an escape._ Mason fought with all his strength, gaze fixed on the rifle. _Callum, I'm sorry._

A shape emerged from the darkness, two muscular, razor-edged limbs ending in single points, supporting a sleek brown form. It heaved itself forward in bounds, dragging its belly and a mess of tentacles behind. The room's dim light glinted off the smooth contours of its carapace.

Wide-eyed, Mason watched it climb the mound on which he lay. It paused to face him, mandibles parted and fanged mouth open, and expelled an acrid breath. The creature hauled itself up, now using its tentacles for grip. Though he could not move a muscle, Mason discovered he was not anesthetized when he felt the sharp pinch of those claws as they crawled over his exposed skin.

"No. Nooo!" he yelled in terror. With sudden and violent force, the creature ripped into his flesh with claws and jaws, casting aside bone and muscle as it burrowed into his torso. Thicker tentacles protectively wrapped his organs and wriggled through his body latching onto critical joints. Others snaked up through his neck and into his skull. The butchery only lasted minutes, but to Mason it could have been hours.

His bone-chilling screams drowned out everything else until he finally blacked out from the pain.

* * *

The same sombre room greeted him when he awoke cold and numb in a puddle of congealed blood. _So much blood._ He gave a worried shiver when he considered how little of it might still be flowing through his veins. Pain was no more than a distant memory now, but exhaustion weighed heavily upon him as if he had walked for days without rest. For all he knew, the paralysis was gone; the strength to find out simply did not exist.

Listening carefully, Mason could barely hear the slowness of the heartbeat in his chest. Of both heartbeats. Heaving a dejected sigh, he mumbled invectives to himself though defeat was not on his mind. There was no doubting what was done to him, but it was far from over. So far as he could tell he was still himself, his thoughts crisp and focused. They would not win so easily.

"Are you there, Maggot?" he called out through dry, cracked lips. Without a doubt he was never going to call the cerebrate "Master," like it wanted, and the name "Maggot," was as good as any. Besides, it gave him a feeling of empowerment and aplomb. Notwithstanding, the creature inside him twitched uncomfortably at his tone. A small victory to hold on to. "Answer me, Maggot!"

"I see your defiance has not yet withered," the unseen cerebrate replied. "It will not last."

Like hell it wouldn't. Mason was not about to let himself be used again. Escape was an enticing mirage; he licked his lips at the thought of what his rifle might do to a brain bug, but he knew the reality of his situation. Death was the only way to prevent them from hurting anybody else with his body. _Callum, _he murmured to himself. The Zerg would realize he was useless to them, or else too dangerous—whichever he could convince them of—and surely they would see the sagacity of killing him, then. _I will not be used again._ It was not a great plan, but it was the only plan he had.

"You've gone to an awful lot of trouble just to turn me into a walking bomb," he said. Little was known about the process of infestation, only that the few humans to ever return from Zerg captivity came back with viral genes that mutated their innards into sacs of volatile chemicals. The moment they stepped onto a Terran colony, the chemicals mixed and exploded. Dominion security had improved in recent years to negate such incidents, utilizing remote-controlled medical scanners. "I'll have a bullet in my head before I get anywhere near a colony, so spare yourself the disappointment and kill me now."

Maggot hissed sharply. "It is true the old ways have not been fruitful of late. But we now know much more about your species than we once did. The birth of our queen has been invaluable to us in understanding your kind." The Queen of Blades. A human operative captured and mutilated by the Zerg, transformed into one of them years ago. "The uses for your flesh are now many, as are our methods. You will serve us one way or another."

Mason stifled a yawn, one not wrought of apathy; fatigue was creeping up on him. "Fat chance of that," he spat. "I'll fight you to the end." Yet his body was giving up the fight that his consciousness wanted to wage. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

Rumbling laughter shook slime from the hive walls and firefly wings fluttered gleefully. "Your tenacity impresses me, Human," the cerebrate said. "Few face the end of their sanity with your courage. I may one day regret the loss of your mind."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Mason said, barely keeping his sagging eyes open. _If that damn bug in my chest is trying to shut me down..._ "Hey, I'm talking to you!" Tiredness was sliding over him the way a moon eclipses the sun, but he shouted on. "I'll never serve you, Maggot! My mind is staying right where it is!" He was sure of that. He had to be. "You hear me? I said never!" The cerebrate held its silence, and gradually sleep overcame him. With sleep came dreams.

_Life was good. Everything he ever needed or wanted was provided. Listlessly he lolled the days away, absorbed in idle comfort. Food was aplenty and he was enriched by the warm, silky waters in which he bathed. He knew nothing of war, or pain, or death. Only peace and content. Life was good in the egg. His egg. But it was time to let go. Time to fulfill his purpose._

_ Imprinted instincts began to guide his actions immediately. The simple liquid furnishings of his infant cradle spilled out as a gash formed under the tension of his bladed claw, and into his nostrils flowed the sweet air of his first breath in this new world. He wriggled himself free from the shell, abandoning forever the snugness of his past life._

_ Despite the same darkness he was used to, there was more for his newly opened eyes to see. Indeed, he could see everything clear as day. Dozens more veiny eggs encircled Master—a behemoth of pulsing grey tissue with few distinguishable features—centered in an enormous cavern with offshoot corridors in every direction, even up and down along the dome-sloped walls. Brothers and sisters scurried about, too preoccupied with their own tasks to pay him any heed. Without thought, he knew which way to go._

_ An empty metallic carapace lay just inside the chamber he sought. Four limbs, two and two, but the joints were all wrong. An upright beast wears this. The thoughts came from genetic memories embedded when he was just a larva. The beast itself lay atop a mound; he climbed to face it. _This one is not like us,_ he thought, looking curiously into those bulging, horrified eyes._

_ His purpose was clear from the moment he hatched; it was singing in his bones. He crawled atop the skin of this strange, bipedal beast and paused for only a moment in remembrance of his life in the egg; of peace and innocence. Then he hacked away at the flesh to a showering of blood. It was his purpose. For the swarm._

Mason jerked awake with a hoarse shout, the blood still fresh in his mind. _For the swarm,_ his lips ghosted the words musingly. Shaking his head side to side, he tried to tell himself it was just a dream. But it was more than that; he _was_ that damned thing! Its thoughts, its feelings... they were _his_ thoughts, _his_ feelings, and even now he wished he could return to his egg.

With shock he realized that more than just an experience was imprinted on his mind; things he shouldn't know were nesting in his brain. Nothing to do with the Zerg's plans for him, to his dismay, but just as good—the layout of the hive. He knew the way out. Freedom, the mere thought of it, was an energizing force that brought strength to his muscles and he could nearly push up with his wrists.

"Be still!" the only voice he ever heard in this place boomed.

"What's happening to me?" he feigned concern. "If you tell me, I'll cooperate," he lied, thinking it a good idea to keep the cerebrate talking while he worked his muscles. A few moments of silence and he pressed the issue, knowing that escape would require as much as he could learn and then some. Information was the key to winning any war; good soldiers and high-tech weapons only got you so far when your strategy depended on bad intel. "Come on, you sure do talk a lot for a bug so let's hear it. Why did you say you'll 'regret the loss' of my mind?"

More silence before Maggot finally said, "Very well. You will not honor your hollow words—your deceit does not elude me—but it matters not. I meant only that your spirit would serve us with a ferocity to rival the great Torrasque, were it not to be lost forever in the Hive Mind."

"Incase you've forgotten, I already told you my mind isn't going anywhere. Do your bidding like a lap dog? Not a chance."

"You do amuse me, Human," the cerebrate laughed. "I will lament your end. What is left to me will be but a husk of what you once were."

"Maybe you've convinced yourself that you can break some yellow-bellied civilian with your mind games, but I'm a trained Marine ready to fight you to my last breath."

"Do you think that is so? Do you think you were trained to resist me? Your mind is primed for infestation, Human. We harvest soldiers from this breed you call 'Marines,' for they have already been molded to our design. The bulk of your species lacks an appreciation for hierarchy but you—you are trained to follow orders without question or hesitation. Yet you are still flawed, tortured by your own mind, condemned to experience your own thoughts while you abdicate them to your masters. I will liberate you from the burden of free will and you will finally be at peace among the swarm."

Mason opened his mouth to contend but let the words evaporate when he heard a sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. K_r-kr-kr-kr-kr!_ "What was—" _Sh-hk-hk-gzt!_ It was inside his head. _No, it can't be—Gzt-gzt-hksh-kr-kr!_ Something was sharing the same space as his thoughts.

"Tell me, Mason Eugene Hays. Do you hear them?"

Faint scratches and chitterings swirled inside his head. "I hear nothing!" he denied vehemently, trying his best to ignore the beastial sounds. They only grew louder. "You may as well give up and kill me now, 'cause whatever you're trying, it clearly isn't—" _I never gave him my name._

"Be at ease and know that you are on the path to perfection. Your mate would be proud. Cara is her name?" He was stunned by the words and his breath escaped him. "And Kelly, your own first spawn. They will envy your devotion to me."

For that brief moment he yearned for nothing more than to wrap his arms around his family one last time, but then a coil of anger entwined the two emotions, threatening to combine into a vengeful cyclone. A cyclone that would funnel its strength into him. "You have no right to even speak their names!" he said, fists clenching and releasing furiously. _Get the hell out of my head,_ he intended to add, before realizing that the words stopped just short of his lips. "Get the hell out of my head!" he growled. It was getting crowded in there.

"Perhaps," the cerebrate said mockingly, "if you serve me well, I may give you the privilege of infesting them yourself."

Fury reached its boiling point and Mason became enraged at last, jerking his body to and fro as if possessed, grunting and howling like an animal as he struggled to infuse life into his weary muscles. Maggot pushed him too far, and now Maggot was as good as dead. There was no stopping him the moment the rolled off the mound. Crawling with knotted fists, he pounded his way across the slimy hive floor, eyes dead set on the rifle by the entry. He was going to make that brain bug eat bullets. For Callum. For Cara and Kelly. For the Dominion and all the galaxy who would be better off if the Zerg were never spawned. The fireflies on the walls flickered anxiously.

"Broodlings! Heed my call!" the cerebrate cried tremulously. Innumerable critters screeched in unison throughout the hive and scurried along ceilings and walls to stop the madman, but they were too late; Mason already grasped his weapon. Wildly he fired into the darkness and watched the first wave crumble under the light of the flashing muzzle. On and on they poured into the corridor and he advanced against their wails, crawling over tattered carcasses and gaining speed as he moved. A voice in his head shrieked for him to stop but he buried it beneath bloodlust.

He was up to his feet now and shuffled unsteadily through the pitch black, bobbing a shoulder against the tubular vein-stitched wall for support with every step. The broodlings had pulled back and aside from the wounded thrashing about noisily—which he silenced as he passed—he conserved his ammunition for what lay ahead. There was only one way to go. Even if he didn't have a map of the tunnel in his head, he could have followed the rotten stench to his target. "I'm coming for _you_, Maggot!" he shouted.

Abruptly the wall ended and he knew he must have entered the main cavern. Cautiously he waved his rifle left and right with a finger ready on the trigger, listening for signs of an ambush, but all he heard was his own panting breath.

"End this foolishness," the cerebrate boomed, and Mason guided his rifle to the direction of the voice. "Turn back now and all will be forgiven." The creature in his chest squirmed at the sound of its master. Obliviously he had won a battle of wills—if that thing could knock him out like before, it would have done so by now—but the victory did not register, for he could not spare an ounce of focus. The whispers in his head whimpered pleadingly and he ignored them.

"End it? You're damned right I'm going to end it." _The end,_ he considered. After this there would be no going back to his egg. Egg? No, that wasn't right; he shook his head as if the bug's memories could be knocked loose. There would be no going back to his old life, to his family and his duties. Even if he managed to get out alive, infestation could not be cured. He took a deep breath and thought of Cara and Kelly, intending them to be his final thoughts.

This was his one and only chance and he could delay no further. He squeesed tight on the trigger and everything after that happened so quickly. All around him the cavern erupted, a medley of deafening screeches and growls and roars. In the first flashes of muzzle light he saw through his own eyes the behemoth brain bug who had turned his life upside down, and his tongue was sweetened by thoughts of vengeance. And then he saw the mass of Zerg—stacked layer upon layer, they were more numerous than could possibly fit here otherwise—clawing over eachother to reach him first. Together they moved like one great wave ready to sweep over him. This was the end and he was committed to it. With a firm stance he held his ground and fired straight ahead at Maggot.

For every bug that fell, another took its place, throwing themselves into the line of bullets in defense of their master, but Mason would not relent. There were thousands of bugs but only one he was determined to kill. The tsunami of flesh was nearly upon him when a scream like no other rattled the hive as if the planet itself quaked. Every Zerg skid to an abrupt halt with their heads turned back. A bullet had slipped through and hit its mark! Despite their shock, Mason never stopped firing. _Die, Maggot!_

Before he knew it, his weapon clicked and the flashes ceased; he was out of ammo. He stood there for several moments panting in the dark, still not releasing the trigger. _Cara's beautiful smile as he brushes sand from her fiery hair. Kelly laughing gaily, splashing through clear blue waters on the beaches of Pridewater._

All around him furious howls rose once more and claws etched at the ground but he was not afraid. The onrushing swarm poured over him and the force sent him tumbling backwards, the rifle knocked from his hands, but even then, tackled to the ground as he was, he did not give up the fight. Frenzily he thrashed about, kicking and throwing punching with shattered knuckles that had not withstood the hardness of a carapace. A sharp claw pierced his leg while another slashed his face, and the weight of bodies crashing down on him brought cracked ribs and the taste of blood to his mouth, but defiance would endure to the end.

Several minutes passed before it occurred to him that he was not dead yet, merely pinned down. "Kill me you damned bugs!" he rasped, still kicking with what was left of his strength. "Kill me!" But they did not. The nearly-crushing pressure of heavy limbs was lifted and he was alone. He could have wept. "Kill me!" he cried out for the last time before feeling a pinch on his neck, and one darkness replaced another as consciousness faded.

* * *

The same room. He was tired of waking up in the same damn room. L_east they could do is put in a window._ A bit of fresh air and scenery would do a person good, but then again the Zerg were not people. _And soon I won't be either._

Hips twisting as elbows straightened, he lifted his body and swung his legs over the mound. Sitting hunched over, he buried his head between his hands. The swirling voices were louder than before and more numerous, and what's worse is he understood them. Not all of it—it wasn't anything like a conversation, more like an exchange of raw feelings—but one thing was echoed back and forth and it resonated with him. Some sort of... hunger was the best description. They were anxious for something and it had them all worked up into a frenzy.

_The Hive Mind._ Soon he would be sharing in their glee and there was nothing he could do to stop it. At least the cerebrate was dead. One less disgusting brain bug for the galaxy to worry about. It did not make him as proud as it should have.

With a sigh, he reflected on the direness of his situation. The Zerg had plans for him, and not even slaying the hive's leader was enough to earn him an end to this nightmare. All this effort to reforge him as one of their own? Why? Back in the Dominion, nobody gave a rat's ass about Marines. Numbers is all they were; he'd be lucky to find an officer who actually knew his name. Yet to the Zerg he was like a newly sprouting seed, something to nurture and encourage. A pang of guilt struck his heart. _Oh God, what have I done? Master only wanted what is best for me and look what I've done!_ He began to weep uncontrollably and another thought surfaced to wrench his face into a grimace. _No. Maggot was the enemy. He ruined my life!_

Mason burst into maniacal laughter. _Look at me crying over a bug._ A bug! _Maybe I'm going loony afterall._ Wiping the tears from his eyes he shook his head and wondered why his surroundings seemed different. Then it struck him.

Extending his right arm he wiggled his fingers curiously as if for the first time, then looked down at his lap. _How long have I been sitting up?_ He rose to his feet—maybe the room wasn't so different from this angle afterall—and tested his legs. By his reckoning he was as strong as ever. Where a claw had pierced his limb, the tissue was already regenerated and he could not feel a scar on his face either. Kneeling by the entry, he put a hand on his combat suit. Beside it was his rifle, no better than a paperweight now. _Wait a second, this is not my rifle._ For one thing it held a full load, and for another it appeared to be an older model. The Zerg must collect them from battle sites. Or from ultralisk droppings, perhaps. He leaped back as if the gun were toxic.

Could the Zerg have made such a grand mistake? Providing him a fresh gun after what he had done? Maybe it was a test. They could be right outside the corridor waiting for him to make a move. But there was one thing they may not have considered. He could pull the trigger on himself and end this nightmare once and for all. His hand reached for the rifle but stopped just short. _Is this what I want? Yes, of course. I can't let them use me again._ His hand moved an inch and stopped. _But they aren't really using me, they're making me stronger and better than I ever was._ The regenerated tissue testified to that. _I can be perfect. They can make me perfect. No, the price is too high. I couldn't live with it. On the other hand..._

_I see you have awakened, my child,_ a voice thundered inside his head and he jumped.

_ Ma-Master!_ he thought ecstatically and was immediately ashamed of himself. "I thought you were dead," he spoke aloud.

_Wounds of the flesh are the simplest to heal,_ the voice said. _Do you yet accept your calling?_

Mason did not know what to think. Relief filled him the moment he learned that Magg—Ma—Master—the word morphed so fluidly he didn't notice—that Master was alive afterall. He wished he could undo his rebellious actions, for fear that Master would not want him anymore.

Something also tickled the back of his mind, urging him to fight and resist but it made no sense. _Why would I want to resist? Wasn't my life empty and meaningless before the Zerg rescued me?_ His life. That's what was nagging him. The Zerg were not his kin and they hadn't rescued him. They kidnapped him! Tore him from the people he loved and who loved him, too. There was a woman... two women? _Who were they..._ A haze covered his memories and he felt deprived. Whoever they were, they weren't bugs and he was meant to be with them. Stepping back from the rifle, he wished he had pulled the trigger earlier. He could not bring himself to do it now.

The cerebrate read his thoughts. _You dwell on the past, my child. Rid yourself of emotion and look only to your future. Do you not wish to please me?_

_I do!_ he blurted hastily. _No, I don't._ He was infested; he had no future. A future with the Zerg was worse than death. Something told him that was true but he couldn't think of any points to justify it. _Am I just being stubborn? Maybe this is my purpose..._

_Conflicted you remain. In time you will be ready to embrace your destiny, _Master reassured him before departing his mind.

There was nothing to do but sit and wait. A few times he stood up intending to run—he knew the way out of the hive—but each time he fretted disappointing Master and sat back down. The minds of his brothers and sisters throughout the hive were so loud and jumbled they hurt his head and he couldn't think clearly. Eventually he stopped trying to and realized that Master was right all along. Thinking was stressful. _Master is generous to suffer the burden of thought in our place._

Chaos gradually evolved into white noise before fading to little more than a soothing hum once he succumbed to the Hive Mind. It truly was bliss, barring one exception. A soft, isolated voice shouted invectives and told him to get up and fight, but it was little more than an echo of an echo. He ignored it and hoped it would go away.

The fireflies were not simply illuminators, he learned through his kin while he waited. They composed a language, like some sort of heliograph. Attaching themselves to veins in the deeper chambers, they connected in some way to the Hive Mind and fluttered their wings to communicate all the latest happenings with pulses of light. The Zerg were amused when this native insect grew an affinity for their hive and allowed it to remain. Perhaps one day it would evolve more useful traits to make it worthy of assimilation.

Time passed slowly but his mind displaced boredom. Each ephemeral minute felt unique and unpredictable before fluttering away to some place he could not reference. Yet he knew the wait would be over soon. Brothers and sisters reached out to his mind and shared their anticipation. The moment was near. He could not remember feeling this excited before—then again, he couldn't remember much of anything—and he hoped they did not leave him behind. It was important that he make Master proud. _Let me serve._

Elation brought a sparkle to his eyes when a group of broodlings arrived to help him into his carapace. Suited up, he wasted no time in shoving past them—they chittered angrily behind his back—and dashed down the corridor, navigating mindlessly through the dark to the overlord platform. Tucked comfortably inside a sac on the ventral end of a flying cow, he was finally out of the hive and off to join the swarm.

Daylight shone through the diaphanous sac and he peered below as his transport climbed to the heavens. Trees dotted the landscape east of the mountains and herds of large animals grazed in tall grasses, but they looked tiny as ants from so high in the sky. Further east they flew and descended into a narrow depression, shoulders of red stone encasing a verdant valley. It was there that he finally saw his kin in action.

An ultralisk—a gargantuan beast with sharp, bone-like scythes protruding from its back and a massive head frill—rammed its spiked head against the titanium barrier of the Terran outpost. Cracks were beginning to form but the zerglings would not wait. They swarmed over the ultralisk's back like a ramp and leaped over the wall, dispersing in all directions on the hunt for meat.

The overlord carried him to the center of the outpost where it hovered in an open square beside a stationed dropship. Humans pushed and shoved to get aboard, carrying what little they could.

Mason put a hand against the slimy skin of the sac and felt it quiver. Liquid creep dripped over his head and filled the space to his waist but the Hive Mind told him this was normal. Without warning the bottom of the sac opened and he spilled out, landing on his feet in a puddle that quickly spread across the dirt.

Humans gasped or screamed at the sight of him and he snarled at their backs as they fled for safety. All but one did. A woman with hair like fire stood motionless, her mouth gaping and eyes filled with dismay. She clutched a little girl to her bosom, shielding the child's eyes from the horrors besetting them. There was something familiar about this woman and she shared his look of recognition. It was a foolish notion; why would he, a Zerg, find familiarity with a Terran?

That tiny voice scratched and clawed at his mind, trying desperately to get his attention, but he ignored it. The voice was not Master, so why should he care? Mason lifted his rifle. _For the swarm._


End file.
